THROUGH TIMBUCTU
AND
ACROSS THE GREAT SAHARA

CONTENTS

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

THROUGH TIMBUCTU
AND
ACROSS THE GREAT SAHARA

CHAPTER I

Reasons for the journey — Selecting a servant — Preparations — The Sierra Leone Railway.

AFRICA, like India, seems often to cast a spell over those who visit it, and certainly at the end of 1909 I found myself under this curious fascination. I had spent some years soldiering in West Africa, and had often wished to explore the ramifications of the Upper and Middle Niger, but the difficulty of obtaining sufficient leave had been an insurmountable obstacle. My chance came at last, however, when I found myself quartered at Freetown, the capital of our British colony of Sierra Leone, and due for six months’ leave.

I determined to spend my furlough in a journey down the river from its source, making shooting excursions at suitable points in its basin, and directing my steps towards Timbuctu. From Timbuctu I proposed to cross the Sahara Desert, striking almost due north for Algiers. The strange tales I had often heard of this desert and the curious wandering tribes who inhabit it, interested me and made me wish to ascertain for myself the truth of them.

The first thing to be done was to get leave. In due course this was obtained, and at the same time I was informed that the French officials along my route had been told to offer me every facility for my journey.

In the meantime I had not been idle, as I was well aware of the time required before official sanction would be received. I had calculated the kind and amount of stores necessary, and these with my ammunition were on their way out from England.

In the Niger valley almost every kind of West African game is to be found, including elephant, lion and giraffe. My armament consisted of a ·303 magazine sporting Lee-Speed rifle, a ·450 Cordite Express and a 12-bore shot-gun. I took good care to be amply provided with ammunition, not only for sporting purposes, but also for self-defence, as my journey was not wholly without danger. I calculated on getting a good supply of fresh meat by my gun, and so my stores consisted chiefly of such articles as flour, tea, jam and some soups. I reckoned that the journey would take about five months, and had sufficient supplies to last me that time.

One of the chief difficulties was to find a servant who could speak the requisite languages and who was willing to accompany me to Algiers. In West Africa the language problem is always a difficult one. Tribes are so numerous, and all speak different languages. In many cases these languages bear not the slightest resemblance to one another, and are exceedingly hard to acquire. By a stroke of good fortune I succeeded in procuring a Susu native, who had a fair idea of cooking for white men, and according to himself, “saveed plenty all the talk master want.” This, being interpreted into plain English, meant that he could speak fluently the languages I required. Having had some experience of the West African negro and his capacity for lying without turning a hair, I took the precaution to put him to the test. He was made to discourse at some length with a Malinké and a Bambara, these being the two languages most necessary, and as he acquitted himself fairly satisfactorily, I engaged him forthwith. After crossing the French frontier these two languages were those most widely spoken until I should enter the Sahara. Here only Tuaregs and Arabs would be met with. I had a sufficient colloquial knowledge of Arabic for practical purposes. Further, I knew that at the big French centres I could always procure an interpreter if necessary; at the same time I wished if possible to avoid having any dealings with these gentry, as they have gained a not undeserved reputation for being first-class rogues, who, in the name of their masters, extort presents from the ignorant natives of the villages through which one passes.

In West Africa baggage is made up in loads not exceeding sixty pounds, and is carried by native porters on their heads. Consequently all my possessions had to be arranged in a manner suitable for this kind of transport. Most West African “bush paths” are not more than three or four feet wide at most, hence carriers have to walk in Indian file; indeed, so accustomed are they to this mode of progression that even where Government has built wider roads, they can never be induced to walk otherwise than one behind the other. As paths are usually so narrow, being enclosed on each side by dense bush, loads, besides not being too heavy, must not be too bulky. I had altogether fourteen carrier’s loads. My plan was to follow the Sierra Leone Railway to its terminus at Pendembu, where I arranged to pick up my carriers.

One of my chief difficulties was to arrange for money on the journey. To carry a large sum, such as would be required for the whole expedition, on my person or in my baggage, would be highly imprudent, and only act as a tempting bait to the numerous thieves and highwaymen who are always met with in these countries. There was the further complication of requiring English and French money. After some trouble I settled with a French firm at Freetown for drafts payable at two different places on my route, and a further draft to be paid at Marseilles. I was the more easily able to arrange this as, after leaving Sierra Leone, the whole of my journey would be through French possessions.

As it would be impossible for mails to reach me, I resigned myself, not altogether regretfully, to being without letters for the next five or six months. At last my preparations were complete, and on the 6th of January I left Tower Hill Barracks to catch the seven o’clock morning train from Freetown for Bo, where a halt is made the first night. It was with feelings of joy at getting away from civilization, and the delightful pleasure of knowing I should spend the next few months in close contact with all the beauties of nature, that I set forth that glorious tropical morning. It is somehow easier to cast aside the gnawing cares of the world when one is alone with nature. In tropical Africa nature is so beautiful that the most unimaginative being can hardly fail to be stirred by her fascinating charms and forget for the time the existence of sordid civilization.

The scene that met my eye at the station was a busy and amusing one. Most of the people present were the so-called Creoles. These people are the inhabitants of Freetown who have become civilized more or less, and are fond of aping the European dress and customs. The young men wear stiff collars and starched shirts with the gaudiest ties and handkerchiefs imaginable, while the ladies vie with one another in the brightness of the hues of their frocks. On their heads they wear the most brilliant coloured handkerchiefs, and this is the prettiest part of their dress. The crowd around the little train is so great that it is only with considerable difficulty that one is able to approach one’s carriage. Everyone is talking at the same time, so the noise is deafening. It must be understood that not one-tenth part of this crowd is going in the train, most of them are only idle spectators. The departure of the train is always a great excitement for the Sierra Leone native and invariably attracts a large and fashionable mob. At last all preparations are complete, the guard blows his whistle, those who are passengers are unceremoniously bundled into the train, whilst the spectators are as unceremoniously bundled out of the way, and amidst final good-byes from the assembly on the platform we steam out of the station.

The babel of voices having ceased, comparative quiet now reigns, and at last I have a chance of collecting my thoughts and observing my fellow-travellers. We are three in my compartment, all going together as far as Bo. Each of us is provided with an ample “chop-box,” or luncheon-basket. In West Africa it is a well-established maxim never to get separated from two articles: namely, one’s bedding with mosquito curtain, and one’s “chop-box.” These two things are most necessary to one’s comfort, if not to one’s existence. Without the bed and mosquito curtain you will be devoured by mosquitoes, with the almost certain result of a bad dose of fever. Without the box of provisions one runs the risk of starvation.

One of my companions is a trader, who is going up-country to investigate the advisability of starting a new store in a district recently opened up by the railway. The Sierra Leone line has done much to increase the trade of the colony and hinterland during the past few years. Trade in palm kernels and ground nuts is brisk, and the railway has quite as much as it can do to cope with the goods traffic.

The other is a bank official going to Bo on some duty connected with his bank, which has large interests in the protectorate.

The Sierra Leone Government Railway is a line of narrow gauge running almost due east from Freetown for 220 miles. Its terminus is at Pendembu, close to the Liberian frontier. Officially the railway ends at Baiima, 212 miles from the capital of the colony, the last eight miles being called a tramway, but practically there is no difference between the railway and the tramway, and both are of identical gauge. There is also a tramway running from Boia into the Yonni country. Trains run three times a week in both directions. Travelling is not comfortable judged by the standard of English railways, the compartments are small, the seats of the carriages are uncommonly hard, and the line is roughly laid. But greater comfort will no doubt come in time, and it is an undoubted boon for the traveller to have a railway of any description; in the olden days these 200 odd miles used to take him fourteen or fifteen days with carriers instead of only two.

CHAPTER II

Bush scenery — A night at Bo — The Frontier Force at Daru — Mendi and Kissy carriers — Cotton-growing — Secret societies — Poro and Bundu societies — Marriage customs — The Liberian frontier.

THE country of Sierra Leone consists of two parts: the colony and the protectorate. The colony is mountainous, and runs out in a peninsula from the protectorate or hinterland. Roughly speaking, the colony is the civilized part, and the protectorate is in West African parlance the “Bush.” In the peninsula a quantity of ginger is grown, and through these plantations the train wends its way for some twenty miles. On the left is the Sierra Leone or Bunce River, and on the east is a rocky range of hills. After leaving the colony the line runs for about 120 miles through typical West African “bush” scenery to Bo. For those who have never seen it it may be of interest to say a few words about the West African “bush.” It generally consists of a tangled mass of small trees and undergrowth, never more than some thirty feet high, so thick that it is impossible to see more than two or three yards inside it, and so dense that without cutting a path it is not possible to force one’s way through it. This bush is often the haunt of the smaller species of wild game, such as cerval cats, bush pigs and small antelope; but these are difficult to see, and still more difficult to shoot on account of the thickness of the foliage. Every three to five years the bush is cut by its owner, for all bush-land has a proprietor, who will make himself known soon enough if anyone else attempts to appropriate his particular piece of land. The landlord then clears the ground and makes a farm, planting rice, ground nuts, or whatever is suited best to that locality. This clearing process is often considerably helped by first burning the undergrowth. Bush fires for this purpose are started in January or February, when the vegetation has been dried by the hot tropical sun and by the dry winds called “Harmatan,” which blow about this time of year. After getting his crops from the land the native allows the bush to grow up once more, and so rapid is this growth in the luxuriant damp atmosphere, that in a few months after the rains have commenced the untutored eye can discern no trace of the previous existence of a farm.

In West Africa the area of land under cultivation is relatively small. For miles upon miles there is this dense bush, with here and there a clearing for a farm or a small village. Although vegetation is so luxuriant flowers are not often seen.

We steamed into Bo about eight o’clock that night, very much shaken and extremely glad to get out of the train. We arrived in pitch darkness, the train was late, and no such luxuries as lamps exist at this station. After much altercation between my “boy” and the native guard my baggage was produced from the van, and I made my way towards the rest-house, where travellers are accommodated. My recollections of that night are not altogether pleasant ones. After dinner I sat down in one of the madeira chairs belonging to the rest-house, thinking I would enjoy a quiet pipe before turning in. I had no sooner sat down, however, than a curious scrunching noise in my chair made me start and jump up pretty quickly. I had disturbed a scorpion, and only just discovered the fact in time to prevent the horrible brute from biting me. The rest-house had evidently not been inhabited for some time, and the scorpion had no doubt made himself a comfortable home in that particular chair, so nearly to my discomfiture. An amusing scene ensued while my servant and two other natives pursued the luckless scorpion with sticks, boots, and anything that came handy, shouting and hurling anathemas at him all the while. After a considerable number of lucky escapes, owing chiefly to want of skill on the part of his pursuers, he was finally laid low by a blow from one of my heavy marching boots, and after this he was soon despatched, allowing me to pass the remainder of the night undisturbed.

The train left at eight o’clock the following morning, so I was up betimes to secure a seat in the very small compartment which was all that was now allotted to travellers. Our train was to take us to Daru, a distance of eighty miles.

I was met at Daru by two officers of the West African Frontier Force, who have their head-quarters here. I was kindly invited to stay at the barracks during my sojourn at Daru, an invitation of which I gladly availed myself.

The barracks are picturesquely situated on the banks of the Moa River. The officers have a very nice mess and comfortable quarters. They have an English-built four-oared boat on the river, where fishing and bathing are also to be had; in addition there is a tennis-court in the mess-grounds, so that for West Africa they are extremely well provided for.

The Frontier Force Battalion in Sierra Leone is recruited from West African natives, and is a colonial corps, the officers being seconded from their regiments for short periods of duty under the colonial office. The officers are keen soldiers, and the men, under their able instruction, form excellent fighting material. They have done a lot of good service for the Empire in West Africa ever since they were first raised, a good many years ago. I spent that night at Daru, and next morning despatched my servant and baggage to Pendembu by road. In the afternoon, by the courtesy of the railway officials, I was provided with a trolly, on which I had a ride to the end of the railway, where I found my baggage already installed in the rest-house by the faithful Suri, my servant.

That night was passed in parading my carriers and allotting to each man his particular load. These men were to accompany me as far as the French frontier, where I had arranged to be met by a fresh gang. The next morning, the 9th of January, at daybreak, all was ready for a start. My escort, consisting of a non-commissioned officer and three men, kindly supplied by the officer commanding the Frontier Force, were well accustomed to their work, and had all the loads with their respective carriers ready. It was a curious sight to see these strange figures, each man squatting behind his load waiting for the order to raise it upon his woolly head. Their attire was of the scantiest and raggedest description. One man proudly displayed a threadbare frock-coat, so tattered as scarcely to hang together on him, while another had a red and yellow tam-o’-shanter jauntily placed on the side of his head. These carriers are a very merry, cheerful lot; however long the day’s march, however hot the sun may be as they trudge along with a heavy load on their heads, they seldom grumble, but chatter away to each other and crack jokes with their neighbours. Of course, carriers vary a great deal, both in their value as porters and in their disposition. The best carriers in Sierra Leone are the Mendi tribe; these people have been accustomed for centuries to carry heavy loads from the interior down to the big native markets near the coast, and are hard to beat as porters. Our road now lay nearly due north, keeping just on the British side of the Anglo-Liberian frontier.

Very soon after leaving Pendembu we came into the mountainous region which extends almost uninterruptedly along the border. The bush path here was very rough, and led us for the most part up and down steep hill-sides. This country did not appear to be much populated; occasionally a small village was seen half hidden in the bush. At rare intervals we passed a man carrying a load of palm kernels on his back, probably on his way to the nearest station of the railway, where he would dispose of his burden at a good price to the local trader. These people were Kissis. They have a peculiar way of carrying their loads. A kind of basket is first made of twisted palm leaves, in shape rather semi-cylindrical; this basket is packed with the kernels, and is then slung in the following manner over the back. Two braces are made, one to pass under each armpit and over the corresponding shoulder, while a third brace leads from the top of the basket and passes around the forehead. It is very noticeable that men who carry loads in this fashion are not half so well set-up as the Mendis, who always carry their loads on the top of their heads.

We reached the small village of Mafindo about three o’clock that afternoon, and here I decided to halt for the night. The chief was summoned and told to provide myself and my party with accommodation for that evening. I did not much relish the idea of sleeping here, as it was a very dirty cattle town; the houses looked like pigsties, and were evidently the habitation of cows as well as human beings. However, it was not feasible to push on any further that night as the next village was a long way off, so I had to make the best of Mafindo. The village itself is half in British and half in Liberian territory. The centre street, or alley-way, divides one country from the other. Each portion has its own chief with its own set of laws. A little cotton is grown in this part of Sierra Leone, each village producing sufficient for its own needs. Cotton is grown in small clearings close to the villages. It is picked by the women, who also clean it and spin it. The process is as follows. The cotton pod is rolled between two smooth stones in order to crush out the cotton seeds; it is then spun on to wooden spindles, and at the same time rubbed with bone dust to harden it. Cloth is usually woven by the men. West African cotton is very short in the staple, so that cloth is made in narrow strips about nine inches wide. To make a garment it is necessary to sew a dozen or more of these strips together. The cloth is coarse but of good quality. In some parts of the country exceedingly pretty-coloured cloths are made; some of these are quite handsome as tablecloths and similar ornaments.

The people themselves have few wants in the way of clothing. The men wear a scanty loin-cloth, and the women have a somewhat larger one, which is thrown round the body, enveloping it from the breasts to the feet. The children of both sexes run about naked until they are thirteen or fourteen years of age. Most of the wealth of the peasants of this region is in their cattle. The animals are small and the cows give little milk; but the cattle are sturdy, hardy little beasts, and seem seldom to suffer from sickness.

At last the chief came to tell me that all was ready for my inspection, with many humble wishes that I should find my abode comfortable. My friend was not a very imposing-looking individual. Although a chief, he was no better clothed than his dirty, scantily dressed fellow-citizens. He appeared to be very old as he hobbled up, leaning heavily on a stick. His chief pleasure in life was to take snuff, and his delight when I gave him a small present of tobacco is not easily described. Tobacco is a most useful article of commerce in these countries. Travellers should be careful to be amply supplied with the fragrant leaf. It will buy most things in the bush, as natives are fond of it, both for smoking and snuff-taking.

The country here is the northern limit of Mendiland. The Mendis are pagans, and are to a great extent governed by the secret society called “Poro.” The chiefs frame the laws of the country with the help of this society, and all land under cultivation is subject to the Poro laws with regard to the gathering of crops. When Poro is put on a crop the owner is not allowed to gather it until the Poro is taken off. For a civilized person it is hard to understand the signification of Poro, or to realize the tremendous influence it has on the Mendi people.

“Medicine” is often placed near the entrance to a farm to scare away evil spirits; this is usually a little rice, or a few bananas, or it may be some egg-shells, which are either laid on the path or placed in an old calabash hung over the entrance supported on two sticks. Forms of “Juju,” or “Medicine,” are varied and peculiar.

Charms are also common among these people. The Mendis hold two particular charms in great respect. One is called “Suk,” and is warranted to bring the lucky possessor good fortune. The other is called “Hoare,” and is used to protect the owner from evil influences. It is made of a plant which is fairly common in the hinterland, and which is boiled into a thick greenish substance. This is then eaten, and has the property of increasing the drinking powers of the consumer. This property enhances the prestige of the individual, as the Poro society is much given to drinking.

The usual form of charm in West Africa consists of a few verses of the Koran written on paper and enclosed in a leathern amulet. These amulets are worn round the neck, on the arms, or hung up in the house. They are also frequently found tied to horses’ tails and manes. The Mendis, however, not being Mohammedans, do not often indulge in this special kind of charm. The Poro society is not entirely a good one; for instance, the Human Leopard Society, of which the object is the murder of persons who are undesirable to the society, is an offshoot of Poro. Boys of twelve to fourteen are circumcised by Poro, and these are the youngest members of the organization. Every village has a portion of bush in the vicinity allotted as the Poro Bush, and kept sacred for the rites of the society. Anyone who penetrates it is killed without mercy. A candidate for initiation must obtain the consent of his relatives, who are required to stand surety that he will not flinch or attempt to withdraw while undergoing the ordeal. He is then confined in the Poro Bush and not allowed to leave it or to speak until the conclusion of his initiation. He is unexpectedly subjected to trials of fire and attacks from wild animals. After this period of probation he is washed, a white cap is placed on his head, and he is given a staff decorated with beads. He is then made to swear a solemn oath never to reveal the secrets of the society; this oath is usually administered on a tortoiseshell, which is regarded with special veneration by West African natives, for the tortoise is supposed to be a beast of exceptional wisdom. After this he is taken to the lodge of the society, which is ornamented for the occasion with palm leaves and other foliage. He then has marks cut on his back in the shape of triangles, with the apex on the spine and the base on the ribs. Circles are also cut on his breast.

The members of Poro are summoned by a messenger bearing a branch of a tree, on which are tied a number of pieces of stick. The number of these sticks denotes the number of days to elapse before the meeting will be held. Kola nuts are used as symbols of peace and war. Two red kolas signify war, whereas a white nut broken in two indicates peace.

Another curious custom which exists among the Mendis is that many families claim to belong to different species of animals. Many say they are of the bird family; these will not eat eggs. Again, others claiming to be descended from crocodiles will not kill these animals.

Another secret society is the Bundu. This has for its object the education of young girls. The teachers are mature women who instruct the students in the duties they will have to perform as wives and mothers. This society is a very old one. Every village has a Bundu Bush in the same way as it has a Poro Bush. Men are not allowed to enter under pain of death. There are many other societies of a more or less religious nature, but these are the most important. Women are regarded as of small consequence by these people. They are made to work in the farm and cook food for the husband while he remains idle. When a man wants a wife he goes to the parents and haggles over the price to be paid. In Sierra Leone a wife costs £3 to £4, but the price varies a good deal. The sum is paid in the presence of witnesses and the woman becomes his wife. Polygamy is the rule among pagans as well as among Mohammedans. The wife has no rights; the husband can flog her or maltreat her without the woman having any chance of redress. Girls are married at twelve, and in many cases even at nine and ten.

On the 10th of January I left Mafindo, crossing the picturesque Moa River. The inhabitants were now Kissis. The river is crossed in dug-out canoes; these canoes are simply made from the trunk of a tree which is roughly hewn out in the hollow form of a boat. In the hands of a native these cumbersome and untrustworthy-looking craft are most handy in the West African rivers. The boatman manipulates his canoe with a single paddle, which serves not only to urge it forward, but also to steer it. I must own that I never feel very safe in a dug-out. One has to sit uncommonly still for fear of capsizing, and an immersion in the swift current of the crocodile-infested streams of this region would be a far from agreeable experience.

The Kissis have three different masters, as a portion of their country lies in Liberia, and yet another portion is under French jurisdiction in Guinea. The Kissis are a war-like tribe, who have given a good deal of trouble to the British Government. They were constantly at war with their neighbours in Sierra Leone, the Mendis and the Konnohs. They also joined King Samory’s Sofas in 1891, and raided the protectorate. Their power was finally crushed in 1905 by an expedition carried out by the Sierra Leone Battalion of the West African Frontier Force. A great deal of the Kissy country is under cultivation, for they are good and economical farmers. In their farms are to be seen flourishing crops of rice, maize, and beniseed. Their villages are badly kept, and the houses are very small and dirty.

The following day we crossed the Meli River, which separates Kissy country from the Konnoh tribe. Transport across this river is done by a still more hazardous method than on the Moa River—on rafts. These rafts are made of roughly-hewn logs, lashed together with “Tie-tie.” “Tie-tie” consists of supple creepers, growing in profusion in the bush, which are most useful in a country where no rope is available. One’s baggage is first deposited on the raft, forming a dry and fairly steady platform. After this the passenger climbs warily on to the top of his worldly possessions, seating himself cautiously so as not to upset the somewhat delicate equilibrium of the craft. The raft is worked by a native with a long pole, who directs its unsteady course from the stern end. If you have any holes or weak spots in your boxes this method of transport will unfailingly find them out. Water rushes through the wide gaps between the logs of the raft, and miniature waves frequently wash over the platform.

Konnoh country is decidedly mountainous. It is intersected by broken ranges of hills, rising to a height of nearly 3000 feet above the sea. The valleys between these ranges are covered with grass-land, the haunts of “bushcow,” as the small West African buffalo is termed. The Konnohs are an offshoot of the great tribe of Mandingoes, which inhabits a vast stretch of land from the Middle Niger to the Gambia. Their country was devastated by the Sofas about 1890, consequently a large number of the people were exterminated or taken into slavery. Peace now reigns, however, and the people are regaining confidence and the population is increasing. Mohammedanism is making rapid progress among them, although a large number are still pagans. Missionaries are scarce in these parts; during my travels I do not recollect seeing a single Christian among these people.

In the village where I stayed that night I saw what is an unusual sight in Sierra Leone, a horse, or, to be strictly accurate, a small and weedy-looking pony. The proud owner was the chief, whose dignity and authority were considerably augmented by the possession of this quadruped. The disease called “Trypnasomiasis,” conveyed by the tsetse fly, is very prevalent in the protectorate, and is fatal to horses and cattle. It is, however, extremely local, certain districts being quite free from its ravages. This probably accounts for the fact that cattle can often live where horses cannot, for cattle never wander very far, thus possibly not getting into the infected area, whereas horses naturally cover greater distances and would be more likely to pass through a tsetse fly zone.

CHAPTER III

Shooting in the grass-country — An unfortunate mishap — Doubtful pleasures of a journey — Sources of the Niger — A curious frontier rock — Bush fires — Bird-life.

IN the northern Konnoh country some good bushcow shooting is obtainable. In the grass-lands before mentioned these animals are wont to feed at night and during the early hours of the morning, and this is the best time to come up with them. When the sun gets hot they retire into the bush, where they remain till late in the afternoon. They are generally to be found near water, and appear to drink in the evening and early morning. I spent a couple of days after these fine beasts, but did not have as good sport as I should have had a month or two later, when the grass is burnt. Bushcow shooting is certainly one of the most exciting forms of sport with big game. This animal is probably one of the most dangerous to tackle. A wounded bushcow almost invariably charges, and is extremely vicious. In cover, such as long grass or bush, he is exceedingly dangerous. Indeed, it is very foolish to follow a wounded animal into such places. He will lurk under cover, with his head turned in the direction from which he expects his enemy, and charge when within ten yards or so. Many serious accidents have occurred to sportsmen of late years in this manner. Finding the grass still so high I did not linger long in this district, but pushed on for the Tembikunda Range and the sources of the Niger.

The following day I had an unfortunate mishap. It was early in the morning and I had stopped to have a little sport with some pigeon in a farm. My small caravan, with the exception of one carrier, had gone on. I was turning sharply to shoot a bird flying off to my right when I struck my leg against a stump of a tree. A sharp piece of wood about three inches long penetrated just under the knee-cap, causing me to fall down in agony. The stick was firmly wedged in the flesh so that the united efforts of my carrier and myself were unavailing to extract it. I accordingly despatched him at once to stop my caravan and summon my servant with my small medicine-case. After cutting the flesh I was able to withdraw the piece of wood, but my leg was now so swollen and painful that I found it impossible to walk. The sergeant of my escort and my “boy” managed to rig up a hammock by utilizing one of my blankets and a bamboo, and in this I was slung, feeling more like a sack of goods than a human being, and thus transported for the remainder of that day’s march. The next few days were anything but a pleasant experience. I developed bad blood-poisoning in the knee and was confined to my hammock. The road was extremely rough, sometimes leading up the side of a mountain, which was so steep as to appear like a veritable precipice. When going up these inclines, in my uncomfortable conveyance, my leg got jolted unmercifully and I suffered excruciating pain. I think the worst day was on the 15th of January.

Between the villages of Kondundu and Kundema there is a stretch of bush for about eight miles, which contains some of the thickest, most impenetrable cane-brake it has ever been my lot to encounter. The path I was following was evidently little frequented, and was some miles east of the usual trade route from the north to the south of the protectorate. Our road lay along a swampy valley, much overgrown with this stiff, unyielding reed. The native matchet, which is universally used for cutting bush, was quite useless against this stubborn fibrous stuff, and the only alternative was to force our way through it. Progress was very slow. The carriers in front of me with loads on their heads had the greatest difficulty in making a path for themselves, whereas my hammock-men had a far harder task in getting the unwieldy hammock through without upsetting me in the bush. I had to be carried by two men whilst the other two bearers hurled their weight against the reeds and made a path for us to follow.

On the 16th I arrived at a small village in the Tembikunda Range, about three miles from the spot where the Niger rises. Here I had a great disappointment; I was informed there was no path leading to the river source, and that the track lay over exceedingly rough, precipitous mountains. This information proved to be only too correct. I was quite unable to walk; and to carry a hammock up those rugged precipices was quite impossible. I therefore had reluctantly to give up any idea of seeing the actual source of the great Niger River. The river is said to rise in a big rock, which is also the source of four other rivers. These are the Feliko, which flows into the Niger in French Guinea, the Bagwe, and two smaller rivers. The Bagwe is one of the biggest rivers in Sierra Leone. The Niger here is known by the name of Tembiko, or Joliba. In the Susu language, much spoken on the upper reaches of the stream, the word Joliba means “He who can run faster than any other man.” There is a curious legend attached to the source of the Niger. The natives have a superstition that a devil lurks inside the rock where it rises. It is said that any man who is intrepid enough to approach the rock and gaze on it will be killed by this demon. In consequence of this sinister reputation it is the habit of the local savage to shun the neighbourhood of the source. By judicious bribery he can be induced to show a stranger the spot, but his manner of so doing is peculiar. He will, on nearing the rock, turn round and walk backwards towards it, at the same time covering his eyes with one hand, so as not to see the haunted place, while with the other hand he indicates the point where the river rises.

This rock forms one of the boundary marks on the Anglo-French frontier, separating Sierra Leone from French Guinea. The stone has inscribed on it, upon the western side, the fact that that portion is inside the British border, and the names of the members of the Boundary Delimitation Commission are here written. On the eastern side it is stated that that portion is in French territory, and the names of the Boundary Commission are also here similarly inscribed.

The Niger rises at a height of under 4000 feet, in a very wild, uninhabited country. The Tembikunda Range is exceedingly rocky and precipitous. It consists of a rugged, broken mass of peaks; in many cases hills are separated from each other by steep, narrow valleys or gullies.

The sides of these mountains are covered with thick, grassy bush. This grass grows to a height of twelve feet and more in the rainy season. When ascending a peak it is impossible to see the summit, not because it is so high, but merely because the vision is obstructed by this tall grass. Bush fires were just commencing when I passed through the country. It was a beautiful sight at night to see the huge flames working their way up the steep mountain-sides, just like fiery serpents as they coiled and twisted themselves around some piece of bush a little greener than the rest and able to resist them for a short moment. These fires are started by natives in order to clear the ground, by burning down the bush, so that they can plant their crops. When the Harmatan wind and the sun have dried the vegetation it burns with ease. A fire thus started rapidly spreads over many miles of country. It certainly does a considerable amount of harm by killing a number of beautiful trees every year; where trees are numerous and many are thus burnt to the ground, the tendency is naturally to decrease the rainfall of that district. On the other hand, it is argued that burning the bush fertilizes the soil through the medium of the ashes of the leaves and burnt vegetation. In any case it is a very old custom among West African natives and one which would be extremely hard to repress. The negro is naturally a lazy man, consequently this mode of clearing the bush peculiarly appeals to him since it demands so little effort on his part.

Bird-life is not so abundant as might be expected in Sierra Leone. The large expanses of almost virgin bush one would almost imagine to teem with wild birds, but this is far from being the case. In the forest-country the hornbill is very common. These birds are generally seen in large flocks, and assimilate well with the solitude of their surroundings as they hover from one tree to another with their peculiar flight, uttering their weird, mournful cry. Their flight reminds one forcibly of a switchback working very slowly, as they flutter first up and then downwards, in the motion towards their goal. Hornbills often build their nests in the trunks or branches of trees. When searching for their nests it is a common sight to see the young birds peeping out of a snug nest almost hidden inside the hollow of an old branch.

The violet plantain-eater is a beautiful bird, which is also common in forest-land. It has a gorgeous colouring. The body is violet and green, while the wings are a brilliant crimson. This handsome bird has a peculiar raucous note. It is a curious fact that singing-birds are exceedingly uncommon in West Africa. I never recollect hearing any bird with a voice to be compared to our nightingale or black-cap.

In the region of the palm tree the golden oriole is frequently met with. This little bird builds its nest suspended from the branches and leaves of the tree; on a single tree as many as twenty or thirty may be counted. They strip the tree of all its foliage and in time kill it.

Among game birds the most widely distributed is one of the francolin partridges, commonly known on the coast as the “bushfowl.” It is found anywhere in the vicinity of a farm, and particularly delights to feed on cassada. This bird feeds in the early morning and again late in the afternoon, but during the heat of the day it takes refuge from the sun in the thick bush. It has a curious, hoarse note, by which the cock is often heard calling to his mate in the early morning. The best time for shooting these birds is after the grass is burnt, from March to June. Besides, the young are full-grown by then. They appear to breed in the late autumn, and birds hatch out in November and December. Guinea-fowl are found in many parts of the protectorate. Coveys of twenty and thirty are by no means unusual. Their favourite haunts are the rice-fields, in which they feed in the morning and evening. They prefer a feeding-ground which has thick cover on at least one side; in this they rest during the heat of the day and at night.

Guinea-fowl, like bush fowl, are often seen roosting in trees. Indeed, with the former, it is more usual to find them sitting in trees than on the ground. A guinea-fowl is perhaps the most wary of West African game birds. He has very keen eyesight and hearing. He will generally have discovered your presence long before you are aware of his, and in that case he takes alarm and is off immediately. Guinea-fowl run far more frequently than they fly. Once they have taken to their heels they are extremely difficult to overtake; the only plan is to cast dignity to the winds and run at your best pace after them. Even then your chance of getting a shot is very remote, and perhaps the wisest course is to leave them alone. Guinea-fowl in the bush-country are excellent eating, but I have noticed that these birds when shot in a sandy region are generally very tough. This is probably due to the different nature of food they live on. In open country, unless the sportsman is very keen, it is usually a safer plan to take a long shot with a rifle, rather than attempt to stalk these very cunning birds with a shot-gun. In the grass-country on the eastern frontier of Sierra Leone I came across one or two button-quail. But I think these birds are uncommon, and I never saw more than one at a time.

A bird locally called the grey pigeon, but in reality a large ringdove, is very common. It feeds on maize, millet and rice, and is seen in large numbers when the crops are ripe. In some parts of the country a native is on duty all day in a farm when the crops are getting ripe, his business being to scare away the birds. This individual takes up his position on a raised platform, built of rough bush-sticks, and placed at a suitable spot in the farm. He is provided with a whip of some supple bush-creeper, which he cracks with considerable noise and effect, thereby driving away any bird which contemplates an attack on the crops.

The green pigeon, or at any rate one variety of it, is found in certain localities. It is partial to water and high trees. Frequently seen on the creeks near the sea-coast, it is also found up-country in the forest belt. This bird is very swift of flight, generally flying at a considerable height; it affords some sporting shots. The colouring is a beautiful combination of green, canary-yellow and French grey. The beak is crimson, while the legs are yellow. It always appears to be in excellent condition, and is a dainty morsel for the sportsman’s table.

In the grass-country the lesser bustard is occasionally found. The bird is sometimes seen in pairs, but more frequently single. Its flight is slow, making it easy to shoot. The wings of the male are a rich black and white, and the breast is mottled grey and tan. A strange bird which frequents the open, rocky bush-country, is the standard-winged night-jar. It has a peculiar habit of crouching flat on the ground, with which its nondescript khaki colour well assimilates. I have often been startled of an evening by the sudden, silent way in which this creature has risen up from my feet. During the mating season the male bird has two curious black appendages to its tail, which add considerably to its strange appearance, and are evidently meant to attract the female bird he is courting.

The cow-bird is found in all localities where there is much cattle or game; it serves the useful purpose of consuming the ticks and lice on the bodies of these animals. It is black, and much resembles a starling in size and colouring. Its beak is sharp, enabling it to pick out these insects from their hiding-places. The sight of one of these little birds, perched on the back of a cow or climbing up its flanks, is distinctly comical.

The widow-weaver is so common that I had nearly omitted to mention it. This is a very small black and white bird, with a tail consisting of two streamers, about twice as long as itself, whose habit is to flutter about from one wisp of grass to another, in a curious, laboured fashion, just as if its unwieldy-looking tail were too heavy for its small body, and threatened every minute to weigh it down to the ground. These tails, like that of the night-jar, previously described, grow to their full length in the mating season.